


Another Way to Die

by Yuroxxie317



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Lucille is humanized and Negan's torturer/executioner
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:14:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26542750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuroxxie317/pseuds/Yuroxxie317
Summary: After the execution of Abraham and Glenn by Negan's torturer/executioner, Lucille, Daryl is taken and held in Sanctuary. The more he refuses to give into Negan, the shorter the man's patience becomes. He offers the archer up to Lucille in the hopes that she will be able to break the man's spirits and bend him to Negan's will.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Negan's Baseball Bat Lucille, Daryl Dixon/Original Female Character(s), Negan's Baseball Bat Lucille/Negan
Comments: 1





	Another Way to Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl is being held at Sanctuary. Negan's right hand woman, Lucille, has her own time with him. He's at the mercy of Negan's torturer and executioner while vulnerable with guilt over the deaths of his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not a happy story. Negan has given Lucille complete freedom with Daryl, allowing her to break him in any way necessary, as long as he remains alive and able to work. There is violence/torture and non-con present. Please do not read this work if you are faint of heart or easily triggered. Please don't come at me, I am giving a warning now that this is not a story for everyone. It was a premise that a friend and I had come up with for a RP, it just never came to pass in its entirety and has now become. . .this.

Licking over crimson-colored lips, the torturer looked at her bound prey. She'd had the presence of mind to have him taken outside to be hosed down, not wanting to be assaulted by the stench of him any more than she already had when he was brought before Negan. But now, he was a gift from her benevolent benefactor. Scarlet nails scraped over the defined muscles of his arms, her low contralto voice humming a random tune as her cerulean gaze took in his bared form. That always did provide her so many more options, keeping her victim bound and completely vulnerable. "Before we begin, I think you should know that you can stop any of this at any time. I'm sure you know exactly what you have to say," she purred, leaning her head down to brush her lips against his ear as she spoke.

The way he jerked away from her left Lucille laughing, a slight shrug of her elegant shoulders as she turned away from him. Her stiletto heels clicked ominously against the cement floor as she walked behind a screen, discarding her form-fitting black dress and donning an oversized white button down. Such was her preference when getting to properly indulge in her favorite pastime. 

Daryl was staring holes into the ceiling, his hands clenched into fists. Whatever she had planned for him, he'd get through it, he had no choice. His family was waiting for him, were depending on him. The last thing he could do was give into the maniac and his pet sadist. Joining Negan would mean fighting against the people he cared about, putting them in jeopardy. He couldn't do it. 

A slight pout decorated Lucille's face as she noticed him refusing to even acknowledge her presence. Giving another shrug, she padded barefoot over to the table he'd been bound to, looking him over once more. "So many options, so much smooth skin. Then there's these," she murmured as she trailed her fingers over the scars on his chest with feather-light touches. "Should we open old scars? Then maybe open some new ones to go with them?" The words were more for herself, knowing that she wouldn't get a real reaction out of him, as much as she might want one. 

To her surprise, he did laugh, turning his head to give her a scathing glare. "Do your worst, bitch," he growled, his voice hoarse and broken from lack of use. 

His words drew a laugh from her as she inclined her head to him. "Very well. Remember that you asked for this. And here I was going to be kind enough to start easy with you." Arching a perfectly groomed dark brow, she turned back to her table of goodies and grabbed a serrated blade. "I'll still be kinder than I should be to begin with, but not as gentle as I had planned." With that, she placed her blade on the smooth skin of his stomach and slowly dragged the blade, enjoying how the serrations tugged the skin with each cut into his flesh. The most disconcerting part was her humming a merry tune as she worked. To him, that showed the true depravity within the lovely woman. When she'd first appeared at Negan's side, he thought she was arm candy, his wife or something. She had that 1950's pinup look going and didn't seem like she needed to be in the middle of the bloodshed. That was until she'd expressed bloodthirsty glee at the thought of getting to slaughter one of their people. It was the first glimpse he'd had of how damaged she really was. 

Biting back a groan, Daryl's fists clenched tighter until he could feel his short nails digging deep enough into his palms to begin drawing blood. Every stroke of her blade was slow and shallow, her eyes lighting up at the blood that slowly pooled there. It was the time between one cut and the next that had him struggling to remain silent. While he'd had much worse, it'd been years since he'd been subjected to that sort of treatment. 

A soft sigh of disappointment startled him as he watched the bored expression on her face before Lucille turned back to her table of instruments. His azure gaze widened some as he watched her walk back with . . .a lemon? Confusion was all he showed, not even paying attention to the long needle in her other hand. Not until she pierced the needle through the flesh of the lemon and began letting drops fall into the shallow cuts on his skin. Daryl couldn't help the quiet hiss at the contact, his body twitching with discomfort. Lucille took pleasure in the sight he made then, letting each cut get a few drops before tossing the fruit aside. "Unclench your fists," she demanded. When he refused to comply, she sighed and looked back at the tools she had. "Either you do it or I do, and I will have to pin your fingers in place. Your choice." His gaze followed hers to the table, noting the long spikes that he thought she might use for such a thing. Cursing, he obliged and laid his hands flat on the table he was restrained on. "Good boy." Lucille gripped his hand with surprising strength, forcing his hand to stay as she wanted with one hand while the other. . .A louder his sounded from him as he felt the needle she'd used on the lemon work beneath the fingernail of his forefinger. Barely biting back a curse, he tried to free his hand from her grip before remembering her threat. Daryl forced himself to remain as calm as possible, to keep his hand open, but it was difficult as she started wiggling the needle from side to side along his nail bed. An involuntary cry escaped his dry and cracking lips, his hand flexing and barely able to keep from clenching them into fists. A sadistic laugh escaped her lips as she pulled the needle free and repeated the action with two more of his fingers.

Humming happily, she set the needle aside and took the lemon, cutting it in half and returned to Daryl, pushing the first finger that she'd played with into the center of the fruit and enjoyed the way his arm jerked, trying to pull away from the burning pain. Lucille took a great pleasure in doing the same to each injured finger. "You make this very boring," she pouted, tossing the mangled fruit half aside. One crimson-decorated nail tapped against similarly-colored lips as she thought about how to pull more sounds from him. She did have a last resort, but she would rather work up to that one, not wanting to break him too early. "We have a new recruit and he said that your pretty little wife is a tattoo artist. I wonder if she would enjoy what I want to do to you." Her words were more her thinking out loud, but she was pleased by the shock and panic that quickly crossed his features before he schooled his face once more. "That was a good reaction. I do love your face in a panic." Resuming her humming, she pulled more needles over to her and began inspecting his face and body. Lithe fingers lifted a larger one, playing it between them as her other hand drew his lower lip out. With a agonizingly slow movement, she pushed the needle through the middle of his lower lip, leaving it halfway through and looking at it with a gleeful malice. "That is a wonderful look on you. Does your pretty wife have piercings?" The raven-haired beauty was expecting an answer, repeating her question as she struck him across the face. With a sigh, she leaned her head down beside his, her lips brushing his ear as she spoke. "When I ask about your little wife, you answer. Because if you refuse to answer, I will go out, I will find her, and I will get the answers myself." That delicious panic returned to his face and she couldn't help a joyful laugh. "There we go. You seem to understand that whatever information I want, I will get. You only get to decide if I get it from your flesh or hers. So tell me about her piercings." 

This time, his hands fisted and he managed not to wince at the movement. He knew that he would have to tell her, it was better to tell her than to let the woman he'd loved since they were teenagers be at her mercy. "Eyebrow, nose, snakebites, Monroe, ears, tongue, nipples, belly button. . .clit." His words were muttered through gritted teeth, hating to share that information with her, made all the more difficult by the needle through his lip. No one in their little family back at Alexandria knew about all of those. Hell, he'd been there with her for most of them. It felt wrong to share such personal information with the woman that was torturing him at the behest of their enemy. 

An onyx-colored brow rose at the list of piercings that his wife had on her. "Oh, she is a freaky little thing. I think she might enjoy being my play thing. For a while," she purred. "I guess we'll have to move this needle then." Lucille slowly pushed the needle the rest of the way through his lip before freeing it and repositioning it so she could mimic the piercings of the woman that he seemed to love. Picking up another needle, she repeated the action on the other side of his lower lip. Pleased with the placement and how he was wincing at every little tug of the needle in his lip, she worked on his upper lip, frowning at the cumbersome hair there, but decided to just push it through as well. "Now we begin the real fun." Lucille was practically singing as she began pushing another large needle through his right nostril, loving how his body seemed to bow with the pain of her lethargic movements. Wiggling the needle, she chuckled deeply as it pulled more involuntary movements from him, moving on to his brow. 

"Left brow," he grumbled out, still having difficulty with his words given the needles that were trying to pierce more of his face with each movement. 

"Oh! So I guess you would like to match her. I think we'll have some difficulty with that later, but I suppose I can grant you this one bit of kindness." Shrugging, she moved her hand from his right brow to the left and pulled the skin there, poking and wiggling the needle and frowning when it wasn't going in how she wanted. Lucille couldn't suppress a loud laugh as she had to try a few times to get the needle into his skin how she wanted it. The blood decorating his face just pleased her even more. Practically purring, she leaned down to lick the middle of his lower lip, the blood droplets that had escaped from the original placement of the needle. "I can see why she enjoys you. Has she tried this with you before?" At the shake of his head, she pet his head and pressed a blood-red kiss to the center of his forehead. "Ears are little fun for me, so we'll skip those for now." With that, Lucille moved down to his chest, her empty hand running over the expanse of skin, her nails trailing over the sparse ink decorating his skin. Her fingers went to one small nipple and then the other, pinching and tugging at it until it was hardened. The tension in him made her grin widely before returning to her array of needles. Picking one that was small in diameter, she played the sharpened tip against the pad of her forefinger before gripping his nipple with her other hand, tugging it out as far as she could. Laughter bubbled from between her scarlet lips as she slowly pushed the needle through the dusky bud, catching the droplets of blood with her finger and smeared it across his lips. Hearing his low groan, she tilted her head and did the same to the other, pushing the needle through the taut skin slower than she had the other, enjoying the silver of the metal disappearing momentarily into his skin before emerging on the other side. There was still a lackluster reaction from him and Lucille slapped at the pierced area of his chest and pouted at the slight grunt she got from him. "You do disappoint," she sighed. 

"You ain't my type. Can't perform for ya," he growled out, ignoring the blood that resulted from moving the needles in his face and how they barely punctured into his chin and the one in his upper lip poked at his cheek. 

"Oh, you will. I will be your type before we are done," she promised. Another needle in hand, she went to his abdomen, pulling the skin beside the spot she wanted back, trying to find the right angle for it. Pushing it through with that same agonizing slowness, he couldn't help a soft cry, more blood coming up as he jerked and writhed. "There was a reason I had never gone through with this piercing," she murmured, her fingers spreading the blood there before attempting to push the needle through once more. She thoroughly enjoyed the blood that had pooled around the needle that was resting through his skin, poking at the lower part of his navel. "Now we get to the difficult part. I suppose I'll have to settle for a Prince Albert," she told him with a sigh. "No chance of a Chloe on you." The surprise on his face at her use of the terms had her laughing. "I take it you know what those are. Not surprising, given what she did for a living. But you are not the only one that enjoyed a heavily tattooed or pierced person in their life. I always enjoyed learning the terms for my lovers' piercings before ripping them from their bodies. But the question is if I'll need you erect for this. Will that make it more difficult?" Humming in thought, she tried poking the needle through the underside of the head of his flaccid length, not enjoying the way it went through or looked, but his shouts and groans thoroughly made up for that. "That is much better!" she praised with a full-bodied laugh. Her attention was diverted for only a moment before it went back to his length, her free hand stroking and gently squeezing it until he was half-hard. By the sounds he made, she knew that his body was betraying him, but she was going to get the piercing she wanted, no matter what. Lucille worked to get him hard enough to do just what she wanted, pleased at the anger obviously boiling within Daryl as she got him to that state. But it was replaced by cries as she pushed the needle through, centimeter by aching and burning centimeter, pausing regularly to enjoy the expression on his face. When she finally stopped pushing the needle, Daryl's chest was heaving with labored breaths. 

"Having fun, Lucille?" she heard her benefactor ask from the doorway. With a nod, she grinned and moved aside, showing him the bloodied and bruised Daryl on her table. The crimson decorated his body where she'd pierced him as well as his hand where she'd stabbed the needle beneath his nails. More blood had pooled in the shallow cuts that she had made on his torso. But Negan's eyes were transfixed on the needles that were pierced through various parts of Daryl's body. "Why'd you make him a pin cushion? This ain't your usual fun," he pointed out. 

"I thought he'd like to match his pretty little wife. I got him to admit that she has these same piercings on her body."

Negan's face showed surprise, his gaze going over each piercing again. The ones on Daryl's face triggered the memory of a pregnant goth that had been in their group and it made him chuckle. "Didn't know you had it in you. Waddling goths your style? Got a little freaky deek waiting on you. Maybe I'll bring her in, get a taste of that freaky chick myself. I'm sure she'd give me a taste to save you from Lucille," he thought aloud. 

At that, Daryl began struggling against his restraints, shouting obscenities the best he could. While he knew it was stupid to react to Negan, he couldn't bear the thought of anyone else taking advantage of her. 

Tutting, Lucille ran her fingers through Daryl's greasy matted hair. "You should know better than to give us a bargaining chip. You are very lucky he hasn't brought her here to use for your compliance. But he will," she leaned down and whispered into his ear, catching the lobe between her teeth and tugging harshly. Negan departed with an echoing laugh, leaving his torturer to her craft. He knew better than to get in the way between her and her play thing. "Alone again," she purred. "You really did not like the idea of your wife in his bed. Would she be upset to learn that you were in mine? Because if you refuse to give Negan what he wants, I think you will be." It wasn't that she thought he was, she knew he would be if he continued to refuse to submit to Negan. The fact that he had a little wife he seemed to adore meant that violating him in such a way could be the worst torture of all. Humming to herself once more, she pushed the needle that was decorating the crown of his member through, her other hand stroking him to keep him at the state she wanted him. "I was told I cannot break you how I would prefer, but this will have to do for now. At least you are gifted here," she explained with a sigh, stroking him faster. Stepping back, she reached beneath the oversized button down and pushed her black panties down, stepping out of them and kicking them aside. 

"Don't you fucking dare," he growled, trying to wiggle free of his restraints, knowing it was in vain. Between the needles, the wounds, and the humiliation that he was facing, Daryl was ready to throttle the woman that was climbing up on the table and straddling his lower body. 

At his continued refusals, Lucille laughed and wiggled the button down shirt up and over her head, tossing it aside. "Sorry, I did not realize that you would want to watch this. Look at you, already forgetting about that lady love of yours." Ignoring his cries of 'no', she raised her hips, gripping his length and working her hand over him, keeping him at an erect state before sinking down on him. By how wet and tight she was, he could tell that she'd been enjoying every moment of their interaction. His volume grew, shouting his denial of her actions as she began to ride him. Alabaster hips rose and fell, twirling and rocking to rub his aching length against her walls. With how he pulsed and twitched within her, she knew his body had betrayed him. Her hand went to his chest, tugging at the needle in his left nipple, pulling it towards her until he wondered if she planned on ripping it out. But when she released it and turned her attention to the other one, he almost breathed a sigh of relief. Lucille rode him harder and faster, her hands pulling at different needles and stretching the bloodied skin at each. After a few moments, she began pushing the needles all the way through, freeing them from his skin. Her fingers started at his face, hips rocking quickly and making her movements jerking and pulling more pain from him. Lucille loved the sight of his skin with the trickling crimson as she rode him, her hands resting on his bloodied abdomen. "I am surprised you have managed to last this long." 

With the needles gone, he found it easier to speak. "Not as tight as my wife. Ya don't do it for me," he growled out, wishing he could throw her off of him and to the floor. But his words did what he wanted, making her movements slow until she sat still atop him, looking curiously down at him with a darkened gaze. He could feel the anger within her, the disbelief clear on her face. 

"What are you trying to say? That I am a whore?" 

"No, but yeah. She just can't be beat." Considering his wife had been the only woman he'd ever been with, he was able to tell then and there that he'd never missed out. His wife was willing to do anything and everything, she was more than he'd ever dreamed he'd find. And she had been the most incredible person he'd ever met, even if she came from a family that was worlds above his. 

Jerking her hips, she slapped his face, before gripping his chin with a bruising hold. "Then why can she not be beat?" 

"Don't know the medical terms. That's her thing," he grumbled. 

"Then I'll go ask her," Lucille declared, climbing off of him and wiping herself clean, pulling the shirt back on. "You went through all of this and then stupidly sealed her fate. Not a smart move, redneck." Shaking her head, Lucille went and changed back into her usual attire, heels clicking against the floor as she exited the room and told his guards that she was done with him and to toss him back into his hole. Lucille didn't even ask him to say his name, she was hellbent on finding his little whore and making her scream for him. 

  
*~*~*  


"What do you mean I cannot have her?" Lucille practically growled as she slammed her pale hand down on the table in front of him. "I want to know her secret. And I plan on finding out just what makes her so special that she has that idiotic archer wrapped around her little tattooed finger." 

"She won't be your play thing, she's gonna be mine. Once she pops that baby out, maybe you can have her." 

"Baby?" Negan could practically see the lightbulb go off above her head. "I know how to bend him to your will." 

"You ain't touching a hair on that freak's head." 

"I have no intention of touching her, you have placed your claim on her. But our filthy guest does not know that." Negan stared curiously after her as she hurried from the room and towards the cells were they were keeping Daryl. Opening the door, she leaned against the doorframe and smiled as she saw the archer curled in on himself, apparently mourning the fact that another woman had his married body inside hers. "Cry later. I am going to ask you this one time before I go see your lovely wife. Answer wrong and I will cut the baby from her stomach and throw it in here with you." 

That got Daryl's attention. Panic was clear on his half-shadowed face as he looked up at her. "No." 

Lucille smirked as she crouched down carefully in her stiletto heels. "Who are you?" she purred. 

Hands clenched into fists, he glared at her, but she could tell that she had won. "Take me to him." It wasn't an answer, but she motioned for his guards to get him dressed and told them to take him to Negan.

  
*~*~*  


"Who are you?" Lucille repeated, her hand reaching up to tug at his dirtied hair. Pulling it harshly, she placed her stiletto at the back of his knee and forced him down in front of Negan.

His lips tightened as he glared up at the leader of the Saviors, his hands fisted so tight that his skin was mottled white. "Negan," he breathed, hating the word that felt like acid on his tongue. 

Laughing triumphantly, Negan motioned for Daryl to rise and clapped him on the shoulder. "Welcome," he told the male before looking over to Lucille. "You really do got magic between those gorgeous legs. Guess you deserve a reward later," he told her with a wink.

"As you wish. I am your weapon in all things," she purred in reply, lowering her head in a slight bow. Daryl struggled not to grimace as he looked between the two before lowering his own head. All he knew right then was that he would make sure that Lucille would get what was coming to her and that he needed to get back to his wife and unborn child. One way or another, he was getting out of there, and Lucille was going to suffer at his or his wife's hands. 


End file.
